If Only
by DragonDreamer1955
Summary: A series of Kurt/Burt stories from alternating points of view. Burt is haunted by his past as he struggles to accept his son's sexuality. Flash-forward to Kurt learning how to bond with his father over family matters and romantic endeavors.
1. Chapter 1: Lightning

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I do own a Staples button, though!

Author's Notes: This is my first Glee story and I hope to get some feedback on whether or not to continue. Reviews motivate me, so even if you leave a single word I will be happy. Thanks in advance to everyone, and enjoy!

Burt Hummel burst through the door of his suburban Lima house with a sleeping, three-year-old Kurt cradled against his chest. The gentle scent of tangerine-mint mixed with machine oil drifted to his nose as if welcoming him home. It clashed oddly with the taste of rainwater that clung to his body, hot and humid from the summer storm. Against his brow and underarms, the droplets felt more like sweat than sky fallen moisture.

Burt walked past the entryway with Kurt suspended a little too far away from his chest; the young boy nestled closer to his father with one thumb tucked neatly into his cheek. He wore a black tutu in celebration of his birthday and Burt was careful to not touch a single frill as he brought his son into the bedroom.

Kurt mumbled, "Daddy," and twisted his head of fine brown hair, but did not wake up. He kept the strands perfectly swept to one side except for the rumpled cowlick rubbing against Burt's flannel shirt. The father laid his son carefully into bed, prying little fingers off his arm. A silhouette lingered in the doorway as Burt kissed Kurt's forehead and whispered good night.

The intensity of his squared shoulders was an easy clue for his wife to catch, standing at the doorway like she was. At that moment though, all Burt could hold onto were the badly scripted movie-memories running in his mind on fast forward. He couldn't smother them back as his legs moved mechanically back into the hallway.

He paced into the living room, vaguely observing the familiar décor while memories switched to a new channel; the party highlights now danced across his vision. They had taken Kurt to a clichéd celebratory restaurant, at someplace children loved to eat and romp around but Burt could not remember the name at all. It didn't matter, so long as the kid had fun. The few other children and parents in attendance had cooed amiably over Kurt's demanding need to wear a girl's outfit and the way he screamed when the sensible heels he asked for were never revealed in any present box.

Burt had stood stock-legged as his son pranced, twirled, and giggled with the other young girls. He had tried to push back the startling feeling of shame that built within him as he watched Kurt have fun in his own way. He had not understood at first, but now the truth was much too clear.

_My head might explode_, Burt thought bitterly, trying to take comfort in the subtle silver and black themes around him. From the black sofa and silver-spun lamps to the black-framed paintings and rugs with elegant loops, the entire living area seemed perfect. He might not have decent taste, but his wife was an expert at turning a neutral room into the warmest atmosphere. He could appreciate that in a time like this.

Burt heard movement behind him and relaxed a bit when a pair of slender arms wrapped around his torso. He shifted slightly to see his greatest support smiling at him across her slightly upturned nose.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Jenny asked as she massaged the tension from his arms.

"The party was great; Kurt had a blast. That's all that matters," he replied stiffly, still trying to dismiss the jeering voices in his mind. Jenny flipped her dirty blonde hair over one shoulder and moved to Burt's side. Her clear, blue eyes fixed him with a pleading look; the one Burt always recognized when she wanted him to share more with her. But he couldn't.

The twenty-seven year old mechanic jerked his collar loose and mumbled about changing in their bedroom. He moved heavily to the back of the house, pausing momentarily to view the family pictures on the right hand wall. Kurt's sweet baby face featured in all of them except his wedding frame. The boy's high cheekbones, full lips, and dazzling blue eyes penetrated every candid shot. _God, he looks so much like his mother_.

Burt shuffled to his closet, busily moving items to keep occupied. He stumbled over a small cardboard box tucked in the back. The front side had 'Kurt' scrawled sloppily in Sharpie marker—his own handwriting, of course—and he reached down to pull out a toddler-sized one-piece outfit. His hands tightened around the light blue cotton with the words, "Baby's First Ballgame" typed across the chest. The store tags were still attached.

A lump built in Burt's esophagus until he choked. Coughing in rough spasms, the man realized each sound developed more and more like a sob. Jenny's swift footsteps approached him until her hand grasped his shoulder, soft and strong.

"Burt? Please, honey. Don't shell up and shut me out. Seeing you suffer silently like this…it just kills me."

Burt shook his head as his shoulders trembled. _Don't break down, not now, she can't see you like this…_ He chanted it like a mantra. Jenny bit her lip and pulled gently on her husband's arm until he stood. She coaxed him to the bed and they both sat.

Burt finally broke down, lashing out in his broken voice, "I can't deny it anymore! The truth of it all, of me and Kurt…he's different, Jen, and I'm just the kind of man to hate him for it."

"Burt, you don't mean that…" Jenny began, but he stopped her with a weary sigh.

"No, but this guilt and anguish, knowing what I've done in the past. I can't live it down," Burt could feel the angry burn engulfing his left eye. The wetness was intensifying with every moment.

_He stood on the football field, his teammates ramming each other during practice. One of the linebackers, Fullman, had been on the hard end of a "multi-car pileup" as the jocks affectionately called it. He was struggling to stand straight while his left knee wobbled precariously._

"_Shake it off, man!" the quarterback, Nibrowsky, yelled at him. "Don't tell us you've gone and become a fag!"_

_Burt laughed boisterously with the other high school boys and cried, "Faggy's gone and busted his knee!"_

The memory faded, but others just like it were ready to jump up next. He rotated his neck and pounded on one ear, as if determined to let his terrible history fall out forever.

"If only he was just like any other kid. I could wrap my head around it, you know? Then he…"

"Wouldn't be our son," Jenny said softly. Burt wrung his fingers together, bouncing his leg in quick, irritated movements.

"Tell me you don't see it. How happy he is with girl stuff. How…_flamboyant_ he was at that party. The parents were too polite to say anything, but they could tell, too. Our son is gay," Burt practically spat the last sentence, and he instantly regretted it after Jenny's jaw clenched and her stomach pushed out from a sharp intake of breath.

For a long moment they stared at one another, sitting half on and off the queen bed with satin rose sheets. As if on cue, the power went out—courtesy of the growing storm—and plunged them into complete darkness. Burt could only hear their steady breaths; he was afraid to move and break his sudden trance.

A strike of lightning burst outside their long window, illuminating the night sky with an unnaturally yellow hue for a split second before it fell back to blackness. The mechanic listened carefully as Jenny moved to fetch a flashlight, and thunder rumbled softly in the distance. She flicked on the funnel of light and returned to Burt's side. The cylinder rolled between her hands for a moment, and then she spoke.

"The wonderful thing about lightning is how unpredictable it can be. I've always had an appreciation for its raw, but misunderstood power."

She lifted her hands and guided Burt down to her lap. Jenny laid her arms across the length Burt's back, acting as his shield while the man relaxed his head against the groove of her knee. No matter what, her warmth and support always calmed him.

"Our son will be lightning," she said. The tone of her voice and the tangerine-mint smell of her perfume united in their assuredness.

"Kurt will be spectacular, powerful, and uncontainable. Nothing will be able to stop him—not even the narrow-minded jock you used to be." There was a chuckle in the way she phrased that last comment.

Burt lifted himself to hug her tightly, moving his lips against her shoulder. The gesture clearly asked, _How can you be so sure?_

"He's ours," Jenny stated. There was no room for argument. "That's the best trait of lightning; it never strikes in the same place or the same way. Kurt will use that—magnificently."

The fan bulbs above them flickered to life once again, and Burt could only wonder if Jenny's steadfast belief in their child was the real reason power was restored. Another bolt of lightning cracked in the distance and he heard Kurt whimper in the other room. Automatically he was on his feet and rushed into his son's room. Jenny followed closely behind, hovering in the doorway once more with a gentle smile.

"You okay, kid?" Burt asked softly, stroking Kurt's face with his calloused fingers. The boy's eyelids fluttered and he gripped his dad's arm like a life preserver.

"I'm scared," Kurt whispered. His body curled around like a cat's to snuggle against the kneeling Burt. Tucking the covers under Kurt's chin, the mechanic's faint wrinkles lifted skyward with renewed joy and love as he spoke.

"You're all right, son. Don't worry about the storm. One day, you'll learn to love lightning."

Author's Notes: Please review! Next chapter will be Kurt's point of view, so let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2: Bonding

Author's Notes: This one is set right after the season finale (Journey) and told from Kurt's point of view. Let me know if I should incorporate more songs into this story. Also, cameo by Sue Sylvester.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I do, however, own a luxurious set of Sharpie pens!

Kurt Hummel burst through the door of his modest Lima home and met the faint smell of machine oil and coffee. Obviously his dad was home, so the stylish teen sashayed into their kitchen with a ridiculous smile widening the pores across his cheeks. Burt eyed him warily from the far side of the counter and downed a heavy gulp from his coffee cup.

"Are you 'PMS-ing' or something, kid?" Burt asked, a heavy chuckle steaming the edge of his mug. "One second you're high kicking and French-spewing about that Cheerios win, then you spiral into depression after your Glee match—which I'm still really sorry to hear about—and now you're walking on sunshine about God knows what."

Kurt rolled his eyes subtly at the old man's jab, perched one arm on his hip, and declared, "Glee is here to stay for another year! This time I will be sure to make our team madge-ical and dominate Vocal Adrenaline. Regionals, here we come…again." He mentally stepped off the soapbox and fixed his dad with another beaming grin.

Burt just readjusted his cap and said, "Good for you, Kurt."

"If only you could have seen me when Mr. Schuester first gave us the good news. I hadn't been so excited since he announced our weekly assignment was to focus on Lady Gaga," Kurt said, moving Burt's side and giving his shoulder a good squeeze. Burt mumbled about being sorry his missed the initial 'glee,' no pun intended.

Kurt took a moment to assess his father. He had never been able to switch Burt onto a healthier alternative to coffee, but he had trained him to not add empty calories that unavoidably came with creamer and sugar. This time, though, the mechanic's beverage was milky brown and wafting the sweet aroma of sugary additives. The last time Burt had gone that far was when Duke won anything.

"Dad?" Kurt asked, shifting his weight away from his father's shoulder. "Are you…full of ennui?" He gave no answer at first, just turned to look at the living room mantle where family portraits stood in a row. The last one was a still shot of Carole. Kurt's chest grew heavy with guilt.

"In less fancy terms, I guess. Have you talked to Finn lately?" Burt asked casually, turning back to his son.

After Burt defended Kurt over Finn's slanderous comment, his father had to explain why the teenage quarterback was no longer welcome. Carole took the news like any good mother would—she followed her son.

Burt felt obligated to do what he could, so after a substantial pay-off to the Hudson's realtor, the pair had moved back into their old house. Because of that bribe, Kurt had been forced to give up a large portion of his wardrobe spending allowance. "It's groceries or scarves, take your pick, kiddo," Burt had told him.

Kurt's posture grew increasingly rigid upon realizing he would have to come clean to his dad. He had to explain the truth, but he knew Burt might hate him for it. The man in question rose to his feet and began rinsing out the rest of his drink. Without facing Kurt he asked, "Something on your mind?"

"Dad…" Kurt said, pausing to tuck his bangs into place. They didn't need fixing, but he did it anyway. Burt waited until Kurt had been silent for several minutes before he stood directly in front of his boy and sighed.

"Kurt, if you're this reluctant to tell me something, after all we've been through lately, then I guess I haven't been doing my job right."

He could feel the familiar prickle in his tear ducts, and the soprano tried in vain to push the feeling away. "You'll think I'm a terrible person," he admitted, his voice dropping an octave as his face sought the ground.

"Never," Burt said, placing a hand on each of Kurt's shoulders. "Tell me."

He did, finally admitting to his crush on Finn, the ploy to hook up Burt and Carole, even the way Finn was provoked by their uncomfortable living arrangement. Kurt spoke quickly to keep himself from stopping, vaguely aware that his voice rose higher every time Burt's hands tightened on him.

When he finished, Kurt trembled with a single tear tickling his nose. He couldn't meet his father's eyes until Burt stated, "I forgive you."

Kurt's lip quivered has he launched himself against Burt's chest in an iron embrace. He couldn't stop thanking his dad, and thought wildly about how to make their family whole again. Burt needed Carole, and in his attempt to make things right, the teen had a wild idea.

"Okay, Dad," Kurt drew in a measured breath. "I've devised a very specific and easy to memorize five-step program to win Carole back. Once complete, we'll successfully reunite the Hummel and Hudson clans."

They talked for several hours, more guy bonding time that Kurt truly appreciated. Finn was already on board. They'd had bonding time after Glee and Mr. Shuester's emotional rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

Finn waited for Kurt outside the choir room, near the locker hall, and said, "I think we had a moment back there." The latter had to agree, especially after the brotherly look that passed over Finn's shoulder. Kurt explained that he still wanted their quasi-family to work, and Finn admitted that his mom had been a mess ever since they moved out.

"So we fix it," Kurt said determinedly. Feeling spunky, he slipped into a husky tone and leaned closer to Finn to whisper, "You know, that red rubber rescue was quite chivalrous."

Finn gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing like a choked fish, until he asked, "Dude, are you gonna try and kiss me?"

Kurt laughed awkwardly (Hmhmm-hmhmhm-hmm), but when Finn continued to look uncomfortable he sighed, "No, Finn."

The larger boy's shoulders dropped a quarter inch as he slouched into his relaxed 'frankenteen' posture. Kurt started to explain how they might go about correcting their parent's separation, when he caught movement from the end of the hallway.

None other than Sue Sylvester, clad in a horrendously pink tracksuit, came sauntering down the hall in her recently coined "Sue Sylvester Strut." Kurt had to appreciate the lofty way she held herself with an air of superiority. He did exactly the same thing each morning to show the entire school he didn't care what anyone thought of him. Except hers was not a show.

Coach Sylvester halted right in front of them, holding her master cleanse thermos and inspecting the pair with one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other and her mouth drawn straighter than Finn. The look clearly said she was not impressed with the mouth breathers in front of her.

"Ladyface," she said, nodding at Kurt.

"You," she said, nodding at Finn. Kurt worked hard to not laugh, especially over Sue's still hideously styled hair. He was rigid and focused, muscle memory from the Cheerios controlling him exactly the way Sue preferred.

"See you Glee clubbers this fall. You better be ready for a new destination because Horror isn't the only stop on the Sue Sylvester Express."

That being said, Sue cupped her hand into the famous 'C' and strutted down the next hallway. Finn gasped wildly, having held his breath during the entire ordeal. Kurt patted his back and said with finality, "I'll call you when I have a plan."

Having everything ready to execute Operation Parental Reunion, Burt genuinely asked if they could watch 'one of your fruity musical shows.' Kurt touched his hand to his heart, hugged his dad again, and insisted they share low-sodium popcorn during _The Sound of Music_.

The next evening, Finn dragged his mother out to the Breadsticks restaurant a mere thirty seconds before Burt and his son entered. Kurt pulled his nervous and underdressed father to the waiting bench. The sixteen-year-old cleared his throat and watched disappointedly as Finn whipped around, saw the Hummels, and did a terrible job at faking surprise when he told Carole to "Look over there!"

"Burt!" she cried, covering her mouth quickly at her loud burst in the quiet restaurant.

"Finn!" Kurt yipped, unable to control himself.

"Kurt!" Finn sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Carole!" Burt proclaimed as though he wanted to run slow motion into a romantic, motion picture hug. _You need to get out more, Dad…and stop letting gooey movies affect you_, Kurt thought.

"Breadsticks!" Finn exclaimed when the hostess approached them nervously. She cleared her throat as they all turned toward her, each turning progressively redder in the face.

"A table for four, perhaps?" She smiled a bit too sweetly as Kurt nodded emphatically.

They sat in relative silence around a basket of butter and herb breadsticks, and Kurt had to admit their so-called plan wasn't being very effective. Burt was casting apologetic looks that Carole refused to acknowledge while Finn kept nodding at Kurt with his eyes narrowed slightly and lips upturned at the corners that clearly said, "I know what you're thinking, and we got this." It was clearly the look he often shared with Puck, and Kurt was not impressed. He rubbed his palm vigorously against his face.

"So, uh, how's the house been working out?" Burt asked desperately. Kurt kicked him under the table, daggers shooting from his expression as he silently told his father to stop breaking one of the five rules: Don't bring up the fact that the two of you are separated. Burt threw him a desperate plea from across the table when Carole twisted one finger in her hair and ran another around the rim of her water glass. Kurt inhaled softly and stepped on his soapbox again.

"Oh Finn, I think now would be the perfect time to tell our parents about the wonderful connection we've made. Not everyone can pull off the like-mindedness we now share. So let me raise a toast to our 'burying the hatchet' as some say, and push on to the more pressing question…" Kurt began, hoping against all odds Finn would catch on. The larger teen stared at him like he'd spoken in Latin. Kurt felt like he might scream when Burt finally took control.

"Damn it, Carole, I love you. I made a mistake when I told Finn to leave. I want you to forgive me because I can't live without you. Please," he said, the last word barely a whisper.

Carole drew herself up straight with a shaky breath and clasped her hand in Finn's. "I stood by you without knowing the full story because I thought Burt's demand was uncalled for, regardless of what you did. Now, sweetie, I need to know how you feel."

Finn's gaze flickered to everyone around him, lingering finally on Burt. "I just want an honest invitation, you know, without being forced into anything."

Burt seemed to get the hint because he stood up and out of the booth, extended one hand towards Finn, and asked, "Would you and your mother like to move in with me and Kurt?"

"No," Finn started, bit his lip in concentration, and said, "Wait…I mean, yes, but as long as I get my own room this time."

"Deal," Burt nodded. Kurt hugged each one of them individually, but allowed himself an extra moment to whisper, "We need to get you into better shoes," to Carole.

They walked home together, just Burt and Kurt, when the son chanced a look into the night sky. The full harvest moon nearly took his breath away, except when a single dark cloud ghosted in front of the orb. The lone star ranger, looking for its cumulous friends, was slicing the moon into an odd montage of Packman's hungry mouth, or perhaps a cheesecake pie with an overenthusiastic bite taken out.

The old Cat's In the Cradle tune ebbed into Kurt's subconscious, echoing about the father and son homeward pledge.

_When you coming home, dad, I don't know when,_

_But we'll be together then_

_You know we'll have a good time then._

"Hey Kurt, thanks a lot for helping me tonight," Burt slipped his cap off and set it on the boy's head lightly. The teen pushed it snug against his skull, not caring about the hair mess it could cause, and leaned against his dad tenderly. Soon enough they would all be back under the same roof, but he cherished this alone time with his dad. They strode together under the moonlight down the familiar Lima streets.

"Of course, Dad. No boyish insanity here; just pure bonding time."

Author's Notes: Please review! Next one will be told from Burt's point of view while Kurt is still very young. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3: Fighting

Title: If Only

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to update. I will hopefully post again before a week has gone by. This third chapter is from Burt's point of view when Kurt is five. Please let me know what you think!

Warning: Out of character Burt and some violence.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Glee. I own a Mac, and that's good enough for me.

Chapter 3: Fighting

Burt Hummel was having a good day. Not an exciting one, but certainly uplifting in most regards. He had spent a productive day at the shop working in his favorite set of coveralls and faded black baseball cap. He arrived at home in his Chevy truck, slammed the vehicle door shut, and strolled towards the two-step entry porch with a miniature version of his vintage truck tucked under one arm. The toy model—with custom paint and moveable parts—was a replica of his prized baby meant for a very special Kurt Hummel.

_It's the perfect time to get my kid invested in automotives; just like his old man_, Burt thought, hitching the neat package against his chest while a light smiled played at his lips. He reached for the house door and hopped inside. Their home was spacious and smelled familiarly comforting with that unusual combination of perfume and oil. Burt allowed himself one proud moment to notice the family room now displayed subtle tributes to his style. The dark woodworking and mantle pieces were his design, settling nicely with Jenny's black and silver wall sconces, decorative lighting, and other room pieces. The style seemed to express a melting pot of Hunting Lodge and Metropolitan Flair, which made him feel like they were finally sharing talents in all subjects—including the five-year-old boy elegantly sprawled across the beige carpet with paper and rainbow markers surrounding him.

Kurt dutifully shaded an image on the parchment while quiet music lilted in the background. Burt knew it was from Jenny's Broadway musical collection, but of course he couldn't identify the song title or artist on the spot. His little boy hummed along to the tune, and when certain lyrics played Kurt would sing softly, "Master of the House, Keeper of the Zoo..."

The mechanic moved closer, tucking the toy truck against the small of his back and inspecting pictures already drawn. Most of them showcased stick figures wearing finely detailed outfits, complete with scarves, hats, and fancy belts while music notes danced around the blank edges. The kid had talent, even though they were merely scribbles. Burt noticed the current picture, which no doubt was an image of Kurt dressed like a super hero. He even had a flowing cape.

"Hey Kurt," Burt greeted cheerfully. Kurt nodded in response, his tongue sticking out from the left side of his delicate lips in concentration. "How was school today?" Burt prodded, hoping for a more enthusiastic response as he shoved one hand into the pocket of his blue Carhartt.

His son paused, a red marker pressed against his nose, and said, "I had fun playing house today, until Noah decided to ruin it."

Burt's arm tightened on the truck just out of Kurt's line of vision, already jumping to bad conclusions. _I knew that Puckerman kid would be trouble…the boy is twice the size of Kurt and they are only in kindergarten!_ He stifled any outward signs of anger and asked Kurt to tell him about it.

Kurt tapped the marker against his chin and scissor kicked his legs through the air as he spoke, "Well, Rachel decided she wanted to be the mommy and Brittany was the dog because she can bark real good…I mean, really well."

Any other time Burt would have chuckled at Kurt's insistence on correcting his own grammar, but was waiting impatiently to hear about the part that was ruined. He motioned for the boy to keep sharing, so Kurt continued.

"I was the daddy, so I made sure to be just like you!" Kurt smiled proudly at Burt, and then suddenly frowned. "But afterwards Noah shoved me and called me a wimp. I stuck my tongue out at him because he's mean, stupid, and wears clothes with boogers on them."

Burt crouched down beside his son and laid one hand on Kurt's arm. He gently asked why the kindergartner did not defend himself.

"Mommy and Ms. Copperstone say it's not polite to hit," Kurt mumbled, staring down at his most recent picture. He ran one thin finger along the length of his cape.

"Is this Super Kurt?" Burt asked, picking up the picture and turning it in circles while nodding in concentration with his chin perched between thumb and forefinger. The child giggled, admiring his father's "studious face."

"Yes, and I'd have mind control!" Kurt said, his eyes widening at the idea. Burt asked why, to which the boy replied, "Then I could make everyone happy and nice…even me."

Burt's knee shook at the quick realization this is only the beginning of harassment that will be thrown at Kurt, especially when the other boys start noticing the differences. He needed to stop this, right? To protect his son, Burt would have to nudge him in the right direction.

"Okay, Kurt, I got something for you today." The five-year-old lit up with anticipation, so Burt revealed the model truck from behind his back with a dramatic "Ta-da!"

Kurt's face fell very slightly, but it was enough for his father to notice. Burt masked his hurt to explain, "This is a replica of my first truck when I was just a kid. You want to be like daddy, right? You can learn to fix things."

Nodding slowly, Kurt looked up and down his dad's body. "Do I have to wear your baggy suspender jeans, though? I'd rather wear mommy's vests and shoes."

Burt couldn't help it. His son's comment burned the image of a cross-dressing drag queen Kurt being egged, drenched in tar, or even raped by faceless, hulking bullies. He gripped the child's shoulders between his fists and growled, "No, Kurt. You have to learn to fix things!"

Kurt squirmed in his father's grasp; his lower lip quivered while the shape of his mouth became an unnatural contortion.

He wailed in increasingly high pitch, "Dad, you're hurting me!"

Burt could vaguely make out the form of his wife storming into the room to shout, "Burt!" and yank Kurt away from his rough hold. She murmured to Kurt before escorting him to the bedroom. Jenny closed his door with a loud snap and reappeared in the living space directly in front of Burt. She slapped him hard across the face.

The spot she impacted on his cheek stung like a wasp, but it was nothing compared to the buzzing that filled his ears as if he'd been submerged under a coastal wave. Jenny screamed silently in front of him, doing her best to stand even with him or at least look intimidating. His buzzing head couldn't hear anything, but he could imagine she was wrongly accusing him.

When he resurfaced, for the first time, he fought back.

"What do you expect me to do? Let him be picked on at school like some girl getting her pigtail yanked?"

"Kurt should _always_ be allowed to express who he is! If only you were man enough to allow it!" she retaliated.

"He should at least learn how to defend himself!" Burt yelled as he flipped his hat off and smacked it against his thigh.

"And you think he should start by learning to fend off his own father?" Jenny's words hit him like a brick against his teeth. She continued unchallenged, declaring Burt was so fearful he would stifle his child to protect his own Lima reputation. Her words began to lose meaning because all Burt could hear was: _You are a bad father…a bad father_.

"I can't even look at you right now." Jenny's hand twitched like she wanted to strike him again, but instead she spun on her right heel and rushed outside through their sliding patio door. Burt stood numbly in the middle of their merging-style home, more alone than he had ever felt.

Several minutes passed of Burt standing numbly with Kurt's artistic images as his only company. Music still played quietly from the corner speaker, but the song must have been on repeat because he recognized the same lyrics Kurt had sung along with. His foot shifted the floor papers, revealing a new image of their happy family: Jenny, Burt, and Kurt Hummel all clasping hands beside the house with an overly large rainbow cascading across the top. Irony pressed on his chest like an iron dumbbell. The song neared its end with a crescendo:

_Hypocrite and toady and inebriate! _

_Everybody bless the landlord! _

_Everybody bless his spouse! _

_Everybody raise a glass _

_Raise it up the master's arse. _

_Everybody raise a glass to the master of the house!_

Burt moved stiffly to the stereo set and switched it off. He walked with the model Chevrolet truck still under one arm, and had to vaguely wonder why he won't put it down.

Almost walking past the bathroom in his trek down the hall, Burt heard the clang of metal against porcelain and froze. Kurt was in there, and he could not face the kid yet. Instead, he spied through the crack between door and hinge…just like a bad father.

Kurt had dropped the lid of his mother's cream jar, where it ricocheted off the toilet and down to the floor. He sniffed the substance lightly, and smeared a tiny portion against each cheek. The boy stared at his reflection for many long seconds while Burt watched. His expression moved from placid smoothness to a deep frown; his brow furrowed. Kurt rubbed a hand on each side of his face, rinsed his skin with water, and repeated the process multiple times.

With Burt watching the entire time, Kurt ran a hand through his hair, around his ears, and across his face while his gaze dug into the mirror. The boy could have been looking into his own soul for all Burt knew. Whatever the five-year-old found, his emotions were betrayed only through the way his mouth wobbly shaped incomprehensible, mute words; the way his hands gripped the countertop for support. Kurt made no sound, but Burt had to finally look away.

The older man crumpled into a pile on the floor, clutching that toy truck the way he would cling to glue as broken pieces of him scattered around the hallway.

A resolve built within Burt by the time Kurt quietly left the bathroom and returned to the solitude of his bedroom. Still on the floor, the mechanic mentally vowed that whenever he could, whenever he was aware of the need, he would fight for his son.

_I will fight for him, so Kurt won't have to._

Author's Notes: Do you want to hug little Kurt right now? I did while writing it. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4: Scheming

Author's Notes:

I'M BACK! Wow, this poor story has been neglected. I'm terribly sorry for taking so long to update, but the good news is that I have a nice long chapter to present in two parts. I will post the second part tomorrow.

Second, this chapter has spoilers regarding Season 2. Do not expect the episodes to follow this story; I'm simply basing it loosely on what is currently known about the upcoming premiere.

Third, I plan to start posting a new crossover story about Glee and Scrubs. If you want to see some awesome interactions between the hospital staff and the Cheerios gang, be sure to check it out. Sneak Peak: Kurt breaks his arm and goes to Sacred Heart for treatment. Sue and Dr. Cox hit it off like only two egomaniacs can. Title: "Dr. Percival Cox Versus One Sue Sylvester." (_I know, this is shameful self promotion, but why not_?)

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I do, however, own a tennis racket that hasn't been used in 4 years.

Chapter 4: Scheming

Kurt Hummel was having a good day—in opposite land, that is. He'd been inappropriately pleased with his scheme (albeit partly the brain child of Rachel Berry) in exacting revenge on the new Glee diva, Sunshine Corazon. She'd been asking for retaliation, first with her choice of song and then her thoughtless comments towards him in particular.

But what did it get him? One headache-inducing trip to Principal Figgin's office. Will Schuester, Sue Sylvester, and the principal himself stared him down while Rachel, Mercedes, Finn, and the new exchange jock, Sam, sat on both sides of him looking equally nervous. After Rachel's pig-headed decision to simply send the girl to a dangerous, not to mention filthy, part of Lima, Kurt had felt rather ingenious coming up with the more subtle approach.

But someone must have tattled. Like a rat.

Everything started once McKinley's school year resumed after summer break. Glee was back, Kurt still looked amazing every day. He chose to ignore the fact that Glee was still full of bottom feeders, and that he was far from achieving badass status, and slushies continued to seek him like missiles. Two newcomers had chosen to audition for their hallowed club, an Asian exchange student and a blonde-haired, All-American transfer student.

Sunshine, the exchange girl, though being ridiculously named was extremely talented. This made Kurt and Rachel dislike her immediately.

Her chosen song was a mash-up of "Jesus Take the Wheel" and "Defying Gravity." Though it was not a likely combination of musical expression, damn it all if the girl hadn't pulled it off. Glancing at Rachel, Kurt discovered the same horrified, awed face that was currently frozen on his.

That alone had been enough for Rachel to sabotage the tiny, dark-haired girl, but the final push for Kurt has been when she flounced up to him, removed her paper-thin glasses, and said, "Don't worry if you're different. If you are truly sorry, God will forgive you." She proceeded to give him this once-over look, sighed, and pranced away.

_This will not do at all_, Kurt thought, a very Sylvester-like voice in his head.

The transfer student, however, was much more reluctant to join Glee. Finn nearly begged and bribed his new teammate to join after "discovering" his new teammate's talent. Even though Kurt had wanted to remain indifferent to him, the minute Sam Evans walked into Glee and the two were introduced, the fashionista had warmed to him.

Of course, it helped that Sam came up shyly and said, "They say Johnny Deep is bringing back the fedora, but I think you've got him beat for rocking that look." Kurt delicately touched his designer hat and smiled, ignoring the fact that Finn had not so discreetly given Sam a thumbs-up.

After Rachel's initial plan had blown up in her face and earned a good deal of drama, Kurt secretly caught her alone to discuss a new method of attack. He said she would like his plan, which involved one hell of a makeover.

"As talented as you are at sabotaging rising young stars via makeup and skanky clothes, we need something much more drastic," Rachel retorted. Kurt grinned wickedly.

"Oh, Rachel," he said, his voice dramatic and breathy. "If only you were as cunning as me." He explained everything and Rachel had to smile despite her earlier comment.

Once Rachel agreed to help, Kurt insisted Mercedes join their plan. That was a no-brainer. After deciding the Hummel household was best for their scheming, Rachel dragged Finn into the fray, and Sam by extension.

The three divas strutted through the door just as the pair of jocks did. Rachel latched on Finn like a leech and Mercedes nearly threw Sam at Kurt. Eventually everyone was involved, though the latter two seemed appropriately reluctant.

"So, Kurt, why don't you tell everyone your _ingenious_ plan," Rachel said passionately, though Kurt couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

The countertenor cleared his throat. "Fellow Glee Clubbers," he began, casting a raised eyebrow at Rachel. She waved her hand, indicating him to continue. "As you know, we all have an issue with this new girl, Sunshine, and—"

"Wait, this is about Sunshine? Rachel, you already got in trouble for this—" Finn interrupted, but was cut off in turn.

"Finn, please, shut up," Rachel insisted, resting a hand on his chest.

"Oh, calm down, white boy," Mercedes said, rolling her eyes. "Rachel was just dumb enough to go it alone and get caught. With all of us, it'll be fool proof. As long as Kurt isn't the only one planning this."

"Thanks for your support, Mercedes," her best friend replied frostily. Mercedes just shrugged in response and slung her arm around his thin shoulders.

Sam knelt next to Kurt's couch, saying nothing, but his gaze flickered from one person to another. He threaded his fingers into the rug fibers in front of him.

"Finn, even if you don't approve, can you please promise to not say anything?" Rachel requested. As she spoke, her petite body pressed against his seductively and her hand playfully danced across his chest. When she stroked her boyfriend's neck, Kurt snorted delicately. Mercedes giggled and Sam looked away, his folded feet twitching beneath him.

"Fine," Finn mumbled, blushing spectacularly.

"Good boy," Mercedes snickered. He ignored her.

"Can we return to the actual plan, please?" Kurt asked with a sigh. Everyone nodded, except for Sam who frowned slightly.

"Well, she obviously cares about her appearance and femininity, so we use that against her. And I'm not talking about any generic makeover. Mm mn. I'm referring to the ultimate bitch slap to the face—literally," Kurt smiled thinly, his expression mischievous. "If we can secure the proper ingredients and precise timing, we'll give her a severe case of man face, beard and all."

Kurt paused, gauging their reactions. Mercedes' face lit with excitement, but the others looked more confused than anything. He continued to grin smugly.

"We slip growth hormones and testosterone in her drink. By afternoon, she'll have hair across her face so hard to control, she won't manage to shave less than a 5 o' clock shadow." He said the last sentence reverently, as if savoring the taste on his tongue.

The room erupted in voices.

"Brilliant," Rachel exclaimed.

"Insane," Finn said incredulously.

"Dangerous," Mercedes agreed, clapping her hands. "How?"

Sam made no comment. His fists were balled at his side, unnoticed by the teenagers.

"Glad you asked because this will take some coordinating," Kurt winked.

"She always carries that tiny thermos, you know, the one with smiling sun faces all over it," Rachel said, miming a gag.

"I can secure the additives from the Cheerios supplies," Kurt said. "But we need to slip it into her morning—what? Tea?"

"She drinks Chai," Mercedes offered. "I can smell it every time I walk by her locker."

"Mercedes, you're amazing!" Kurt cried. The black diva placed a palm to her heart, and they tickled their fingers together, as was the tradition. "Lead us to her locker to plant the drugs and Finn can be look out."

"I'm not cool with that! Have Sam do it, or something," Finn said.

"No," the blonde boy replied in a flat voice, rubbing his bangs away from his face. Everyone stared at him. "Why should I? We're both newcomers, so I'd be more inclined to take her side. You're all seriously going to be this petty?"

"She had it coming," Kurt said. Mercedes grinned and fist bumped him for the _Chicago _reference everyone else seemed to miss.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "All you have to do is watch our backs… is that so hard?"

Sam crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Sam," Kurt called sweetly. The new jock turned toward him. "If you don't help us, I will tell the whole football team what you said during Glee the day we met."

The blonde gasped and drew himself up, making Kurt realize that, though Finn still towered over the world like the lumbering giant he was, Sam was quite tall.

"You bitch," Sam muttered. "Fine, I'll do it."

"I'll secure her locker combination," Rachel said, nodding determinedly. "I have resources." She ran a hand through her bangs, striking a very diva-esque pose.

The final details were ironed out and finally Kurt saw the gleeks out his front door. Finn called to his mom that he was going to Rachel's as the brunette gripped his hand and pulled him outside. Burt watched from the kitchen with an amused chuckle.

Mercedes hugged Kurt, assured him their scheme would be perfect, and stepped outside. Sam was about to follow but paused and turned to the smaller boy.

"You fight dirty, but you're good. See you tomorrow, Kurt." He smiled, those long bangs falling into his eyes. Kurt felt a flush creep into his cheeks as Sam strolled away.

Burt stepped up beside his son and asked, "Have fun?"

Kurt nodded and said, "Sure."

"That boy Finn brought home with him… he seems like a good kid," Burt said lightly, but Kurt could detect the edge of tension in his words.

"He's joined Glee Club, so he must not be the average, Neanderthal football player," Kurt explained, examining his nails. He watched his father from his peripherals.

"Look kid, I don't know what you—"

"Stop right there, Dad. There's no need to worry. I have no ideas about chasing the first new boy to walk through the door," Kurt said, though Burt looked unconvinced.

"Just worrying about you; being a typical parent," Burt apologized, rubbing the back of his favorite cap.

Kurt smiled, "I know, thanks Dad."

"How about we grab a bite to eat, just the two of us?"

"I'd like that."

Burt told Carole they were leaving, climbed into the Navigator, and drove silently toward downtown Lima. Burt tried twice to make small talk, but failed due to the conversation always returning to Sam. Kurt wished his dad would let the topic go. Instead, he fiddled with the radio.

_And he's bad, bad, Leroy Brown_

_The baddest man in the whole damn town_

_Badder than old King Kong_

_Meaner than a junkyard dog._

Kurt switched to a new station.

_Well I'm bad, it's true. _

_You can say that I'm the devil and there's nothing you can do about it. _

_Nothing you can do cause I'm bad._

A pattern seemed to be developing as Kurt tried yet another station and startled a tiny bit.

_I don't know what you've done to me,_

_But I know this much is true:_

_I wanna do bad things with you._

Kurt frowned at the device and continued to change the station until he heard a talk show—something that didn't include bad.

"You seem a little edgy, kiddo. Something wrong?" Burt asked.

"Karma, maybe. I mean, nothing," Kurt mumbled when his dad cast him a curious look. He hoped this wasn't an omen to their group's doom. He shook his head arrogantly, assured he was being unnecessarily paranoid. Instead he concentrated solely on enjoying a meal with Burt. They both needed a nice talk about the mechanics of motorized vehicles.


	5. Chapter 4 part 2

**Author's Notes: Well, here is part 2 of Chapter 4: Scheming. Please note that I am pulling this hormone/testosterone idea from smoke and mirrors in my head; by no means do I think this would actually happen, but the idea was too good to pass up. **

**Songs from part 1: **

**-Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown by Jim Croche**

**-I'm Bad by The Las Vegas**

**-Bad Things by Jace Everett**

**This whole thing is pretty dialogue heavy and I hope that doesn't become a reader's burden. Reviews are like crack to me so please feel free to comment in any way (even a single word). I hope to have a new chapter up sometime next week; chapter 5 will feature Kurt at a younger age.**

**Thanks and I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 4: Scheming (part 2)

The next morning Kurt filched the ingredients from the Cheerios supplies after a convincing lie to Coach Sylvester about needing her master cleanse mix recipe to distribute among the elementary school gym classes. He suggested they start young, at an age easy to condition for a successful future in cheerleading. Sue ate it up, though Kurt had to wonder if she really believed him to be serious.

He marched confidently down the hall, Mercedes on his arm and leading him to Sunshine's locker. Rachel fell in step beside them, humming the lyrics to "Don't Rain On My Parade."

"I'm feeling this odd déjà vu," Mercedes mused, and then stopped to point at locker 1167. "This is it."

Rachel produced a key from her purse and looked down the hallway. Sam and Finn stood beside the trophy case, chatting quietly. When Rachel met Finn's eyes, he nodded to Sam and they both tried to inconspicuously look around their backs while carrying a conversation.

Rachel opened the locker and pulled the beverage mixer out, turning to Kurt. The boy hesitated a moment, but then dumped Sue's injection fluids into the pitcher and shook it vigorously. Once it was replaced and locked up, the trio walked away like nothing had happened. They each winked at Finn and Sam, giggling as they passed.

Their reward came just before lunchtime, when an earsplitting shriek rang through the entire school. Kurt grinned like a jackal to see Sunshine race past with her hands plastered to her face, trying to hide the thick growth of hair. Her partially visible face also seemed shiny from wet moisture streaks, but Kurt didn't care.

During Glee rehearsal, as the fashion-savvy singer sat between Mercedes and (surprisingly) Rachel, Sunshine could be seen arguing with Mr. Schuester in his office. Kurt happily noted that, as suspected, her 5 o' clock shadow was visible despite Sunshine's obvious efforts to remove all traces.

The teacher clearly looked uncomfortable, glancing at the choir room and back at the tiny girl. Sunshine stamped her foot and gestured to her face. Mr. Schue nodded and walked slowly into the choir room.

"Okay, guys, we've got a problem," Mr. Schue began. The next hour was spent interrogating the entire club. Their teacher even tried his old _Law and Order_ style aggressiveness, but Kurt was quick to quell it with a comment about his love life with Emma and an erotica-inspired kitchen cleaner. The teen was thoroughly satisfied to see his teacher's jaw fall slack, unable to form any comment until Kurt jaunted out of the room.

By the time everyone left, no confessions of guilt were given, but Sunshine was still doing her best to glare at each one mutinously as they passed.

The next morning, Kurt strode confidently into school—pleased to be slushie and dumpster free—only to be stopped by Principal Figgins, Mr. Schuester, and Sue Sylvester.

"You really stepped in it this time, Ladyface," Sue said. Kurt winced but followed the three adults back to the principal's office, his stomach sinking with dread.

So there he was, in the office with his cohorts beside him while the authority figures circled for the kill. Sunshine was nowhere to be seen, and when his dad walked in Kurt struggled to stifle his groan. Now this couldn't get any worse.

"Mr. Hummel, we are perfectly capable of handling student affairs without parental supe—" Figgins began, holding up a hand to stop the mechanic's advances.

"No, I need to be here," Burt said with finality, standing in the corner and watching room expectantly. Figgins sighed and muttered, "Fine."

"I demand to know what you're going to do about my stolen injections," Sue said, shooting death-threat looks at Kurt.

"Sue, we need to deal with this delinquency from the entire group right now," Schuester held up his hand and motioned for the cheerleading coach to sit down. She didn't. The Glee instructor then looked at all of his students like a disappointed father. Kurt had enough to worry about from his _one_ dad, the one that standing in stony-faced silence.

"Ms. Corazon has transferred to Carmel High as a result of recent events. Regrettably," their principal explained while his hands folded neatly on his desk.

"Obviously, we have to hang each of these students by their fingers from the highest end of the bleachers," Sue suggested, winking at Figgins. Burt looked at her, startled.

"Relax, Sue. There's a better way to handle this," Schuester said, casting an apologetic smile at Burt. The decision was made quickly after that moment.

Suspension. Whoever "narked" on them shared the punishment, but it could have been worse. Kurt looked to his dad as they left McKinley, and amended his thought. It was worse.

During the drive home, their vehicle filled with a silence thick enough to choke on. _Music probably won't help_, Kurt thought, trying not to touch anything but his own hands.

"Kid, I really thought you were better than that," Burt broke the silence, tightening his hands on the steering wheel. "Hasn't past experience taught you anything?"

Kurt knew what his dad was unwilling to say—the harassment, name-calling, slushies, threats and damage to their property. Burt could try and deny those awful things, refuse to talk about the bullying, but Kurt knew his dad wouldn't want him to sink the same way.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I was caught in the moment. She insulted all of us," he said, even as he thought, _Just Rachel and me._

"That's not a good excuse, Kurt," his dad grunted. "Just makes people lose respect for you. I did." Kurt bit his lip to hold back a whimper.

Burt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Are you sorry?"

"Not really," Kurt admitted.

"At least you're honest. I'll give you this, Kurt. You're creative, but find a better way to get out this passive aggressive crap."

"Time to grow up," Kurt said, lifting his chin an inch. Burt nodded. "I'm sorry I disappointed you, Dad."

"You're not off the hook, but we'll work on it." Burt placed his hand on Kurt's knee and patted it once, pulling back to return his hand to the 2 o'clock steering wheel position. Kurt smiled despite his day, drumming fingers across the strap of his messenger bag. He relaxed against the seat, gazing at the trees zipping by, and tried to ignore the idea that Sam had probably betrayed them.

Rachel Berry strode down the halls of McKinley High, happily suspension-free. A little finagling with Figgins has been easy. Pretending to be punished after she'd revealed their prank worked perfectly. No one would suspect her now.

Rachel shone like a star, rid of her rival and devoid of consequences.

It had all been wistfully easy. For the best, really, because Kurt Hummel has to learn the hard way that no one messed with Rachel Berry. Or questioned her ability to successfully pull a hair-raising scheme.

She continued down the hall, whistled "Don't Rain On My Parade" as the student body parted like water before her approaching spotlight.


End file.
